


Bound

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Series: Short and Sweet (Fics of About 1000 Words or Less) [9]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Minor Backstory Speculation, Spoilers for Campaign 2 Episode 25, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15123992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: The cage would have been small for one person. For three people it’s agony. For Yasha it’s torture, her joints screaming as she strains as best she can against the manacles around her ankles and wrists. She couldn’t break them in her coldest rage the last three times she tried, her hottest anger doesn’t break them now. Still, she can’t help but try, eyes open and staring past the top of Jester’s head, past the look of grim fear in Fjord’s yellow eyes. She can see just the faintest hint of space between the bars of their cage, a reminder that this is a cage and not a cell, not a box. It’s the tiniest of comforts, but it’s all Yasha has.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to "Blood In The Grass."

The cage would have been small for one person. For three people it’s agony. For Yasha it’s torture, her joints screaming as she strains as best she can against the manacles around her ankles and wrists. She couldn’t break them in her coldest rage the last three times she tried, her hottest anger doesn’t break them now. Still, she can’t help but try, eyes open and staring past the top of Jester’s head, past the look of grim fear in Fjord’s yellow eyes. She can see just the faintest hint of space between the bars of their cage, a reminder that this _is_ a cage and not a cell, not a box. It’s the tiniest of comforts, but it’s all Yasha has.

Yasha had been young, the first time she had been put in chains. Her clan had celebrated her birth, called her lucky, called her blessed. She spoke the musical language of the divine, she bore their marks in her mismatched eyes, in the strange color of her hair, of skin so much paler than the others. They had trained her for battle since the day she had learned to walk, same as all the other children, and yet the slavers had been stronger, their chains had been stronger than all her skills. She still bears the scars from her time in chains, from what had been done to her, from what she had done to survive. She doesn’t want Jester and Fjord to have to carry those same scars.

Yasha strains against the manacles once more, something like a scream rising up out of her throat, muffled by the gag. She has to get free before this cart stops. She has to. If she can free her arms, her ankles, if she can break out of this cage, if she can get Fjord and Jester away somehow…

The manacles hold, and eventually Yasha sags against the wall of the cage, bars pressing into her. Too close, everything is too close, and she is not strong enough, just like she hadn’t been strong enough before. Last time it had only been herself she had been trying to save, and that failure had been bad enough. It’s worse now though, because this time she’s not alone, it’s not only herself she is failing if she can’t get free.

Wetness on her face, and at first Yasha thinks that perhaps it’s rain, that the Stormlord had heard her prayer after all, but then she realizes she’s crying, her breath coming too fast, her vision blurring. The last time she had cried was when she had been freed from her chains, it’s somehow fitting that she cries again now.

Jester makes a sound and shifts, managing to wiggle between Fjord and Yasha until her forehead is resting against Yasha’s and they’re looking into each other’s eyes. Jester breathes slow and even in an exaggerated manner, and Yasha realizes that Jester is trying to get her to calm down. Yasha can tell that Jester is scared and angry, same as she is, same as Fjord is, and yet she’s still trying to make sure Yasha is okay.

Yasha’s tears slow as her breathing does and Jester gives her a little nod and a grim smile around the gag between her teeth. Yasha returns the grin as her mind settles and she regains her focus. She’s been thinking about this all wrong. They shouldn’t be afraid of their captors, their captors should be afraid of _them._ They’ve caught a half-orc who can summon a sword at will, a cleric who is strong in both body and spirit, and Yasha, who is no longer a child, whose former captors called her “The Pale Death” as they screamed and ran from her. Plus, there’s the rest of the group to consider, Caleb and Nott and Beau. And then there’s Molly, and she knows him, knows that if he thinks she’s in danger, he won’t rest until he finds her, and that the only thing sharper than his grin will be his swords.

All they need is one moment borne of luck or fate or skill and they can turn everything around. Yasha closes her eyes, gathers her strength, and waits for that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> From my notes from the episode. “It’s a fucking 5x5 cage for three people you fucking bastards, death is too damn good for y’all, I hope the rest of the group does you SLOW.”
> 
> I.... may have had Feelings about that ending. So many Feelings.
> 
> I'm angel-ascending over on Tumblr if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


End file.
